The Last Worthless Evening
by Maribor
Summary: I always wondered what happened after the Doctor dropped the Ponds back at their house at the end of AOTD. So...I decided to explore it for myself. Just a trifle, really. Does what it says on the tin. Picks up right after Amy tells Rory, "I can see you."


_**A/N: I always wondered what happened after the Doctor dropped the Ponds back at their house at the end of AOTD. So...I decided to explore it for myself. Just a trifle, really. Does what it says on the tin. Picks up right after Amy tells Rory, "I can see you."**_

* * *

**The Last Worthless Evening**

Amy took one step inside and her right foot almost immediately went out out from under her. The post, after having been slipped through the slot day after day had piled up in front of the doorway. She nearly went flying on a week old copy of British Vogue.

But Rory was there.

Rory was always there.

Except that for so many months he hadn't been.

He caught her easily as she tipped backwards and she found herself braced against his solid frame.

"I've got you, Amy." He said. He righted her and took a few extra seconds just holding her close. These were their first few moments alone, really alone in ages. The last time, before the Dalek asylum had been a tense and contentious meeting across a large, shiny oak table. They had been waiting for their lawyers to arrive. She'd been gazing down at her mobile, pretending to be engrossed, when in truth she was just staring at her wallpaper. That was all. Anything to not have to look into his eyes. To not see how the bewilderment and hurt, which was bad enough, had been eclipsed week after week after week by real, true anger. As her eyes flickered across the screen, pretending to focus on one thing or another she could feel _his_ eyes boring into her skin.

She wanted to toss the phone aside and crawl across the table into his lap. She wanted to explain and apologize, to make him understand that she was setting him free. To let him know that he deserved so much better and every part of her ached with the absence of his arms. She wanted him to know that her love for him was deathless and she was so, so sorry for not being the wife he deserved. So sorry for being so faulty, so poorly sewn back together that she couldn't even give him what he needed. But she couldn't do it, couldn't make her body move in the way it should, in the way she wanted.

So because she couldn't move toward him.

She pushed him away.

* * *

Had he pushed? He'd wondered that in these long, drawn, grey days. Had happy little nudges actually been needlings? They'd had so much fun trying once they'd finally decided. It was a bit after the Ood left when condoms and pills had found their way into the bin. He'd kissed her passionately, lifting her off her feet and taking her directly to bed. They didn't so much worry about a schedule or cycles in the beginning. It was all so naughty and free, no more latex, no more trying to help Amy remember if she'd taken her pill or not. But after a month or two or three, they'd both decided, wordlessly that maybe keeping track wouldn't be such a bad idea. They added little reminders to their mobiles but these were just days to try extra hard, that was all. A few more months passed and still nothing. They were young, healthy, vibrant, athletic non-smokers who conceived their first child on their honeymoon. It didn't make sense. Then...it was as if the same thought occurred to them at the same time.

"There's a fertility doctor at hospital I can-"

She cut him off with a quick nod. He watched her swallow hard and then a moment later she pounced on him. Amy stripped off their clothes and sooner than later was riding him like he was a wild stallion.

He volunteered for the first round of appointments, after all his job would be easier. He found that he was actually hoping to be the problem. It was a strange hope but when it came to Amy his attitude was always better me than her. But no...as it turned out his swimmers were fine. When they'd gotten the news she'd smiled and hugged him before whispering, "Guess it's my turn."

Her turn was a bad one.

_Fibrosis and adhesions with relation to the endometrium. So severe the subject has been unable to conceive and is likely irreversibly infertile._

She read those words aloud from the doctors report when they got home that evening.

"The subject." She repeated with a dry sort of laugh.

He had no idea how those two words would stick.

"Rory, what would you like for breakfast? The subject is cooking." She smiled at him but there was no light in her eyes. Nothing behind it. The insincerity wasn't directed at him. He could feel that.

"The subject is going to the store."

"The subject forgot to go to the post yesterday."

"The subject missed her deadline again."

"STOP SAYING THAT!" He burst out one day. "That report doesn't define you or us!"

"But it does. It defines everything about me." She said in an eruption of anger that surprised him. "Amy the fuck up, Amy the failure. Amy who doesn't deserve Rory."

"Hey, wait a second." He'd said rushing over to her quickly and trying to pull her into his arms. "Who said you don't deserve me?"

But she pulled away from him.

"I don't want to be comforted, Rory!" She was sobbing now, hot angry tears that he wanted to wipe away. "I don't deserve it and I don't want it. Would you stop! Just stop!"

She stormed out of the room and though he didn't know it, this was the first fracture, that impossibly small crack that forms in a relationship. This was the moment they began to split.

* * *

They split from one another only for a few moments. She softly murmured that she was going to change and hurried up stairs. Dashing into the loo she closed the door and broke into a nervous giggle. Her husband still made her giggle and he was making her nervous. But not in a bad way but a delightful, everything-is-new-and-shiny-and-full-of-promise way.

Husband.

He was still her husband but only by the skin of both their teeth.

She had nicked the divorce papers.

When she'd awakened in that big, empty white room on the Dalek ship with him lying crumpled on the floor like a marionette with his little strings cut, she'd screamed.

She'd screamed out his name and she'd screamed for a good long while.

When she'd calmed down enough to gather her wits she'd pressed her ear to his chest and heard the steady thump. She'd then pressed her ear near his mouth and felt that puff of exhaled air.

He was alive. Rory was alive and she'd burst into a flood, a torrent of tears.

There in the Dalek asylum she lay down on the floor next to him and took his hand.

"I love you, stupid face. I've always loved you and I'm sorry. I miss you so, so much. If we get out of this...I'll explain. And maybe you'll understand."

But when he'd started to stir she'd sat up, This wasn't the time or place for teary confessionals or reunions. She pushed it down and away as she stood up.

This was wrong. All wrong. It was just her being greedy again. Explain things to him? Why? So he'll come back and be miserable. So he'll just eventually leave her, barren and alone. So she can wound him until he's too bitter and hurt and untrusting to ever love again.

No. She wouldn't let that happen. Not to him. Not to her Rory.

And still when she saw the papers clutched in his hand she grabbed them. It was on impulse, pure impulse. She uncurled them and stared at her signature, so carelessly done. Then she looked at his signature. She knew it like the back of her hand, every stroke and loop. This was shaky, unsure, pained, none of the usual confidence. She folded the forms as small and tightly as she could and stuffed them in her pocket. She had no idea why.

By the time he awakened her face was set to stone. She was cold, foreboding, collected, cool. She gathered up her shattered pieces and hid them inside where he would never find them because she never intended for him to get past the barrier she'd erected.

The only thing that could have broken through wasn't how much he loved her but how little he thought she loved him.

With that she crumbled.

And so did he.

They were just now starting to put one another back together again.

As she scrubbed her face and rinsed away the suds she had occasion to look down at her hands. That morning her assistant, Carla, who'd apparently been some sort of Dalek hybrid all along had written the words LOVE and HATE just below her knuckles.

HATE had been completely wiped away.

LOVE somehow still remained.

Subtract love, add hate. That was how Souffle Girl had said you created a Dalek.

Remove hate and remember love.

That was how you rebuilt a human.

* * *

He hadn't felt human since he'd left her. And he knew a thing or two about not feeling human. He hadn't felt he'd had a home since he'd left here. As he walked around the house flicking on light switches and getting nothing he realized she hadn't been here in awhile either. The electricity bills had gone unpaid. This was a home that had been painfully neglected. She'd abandoned it. As they'd abandoned each other.

Where had she been staying, he wondered.

For his part he'd moved in with his Dad.

"Rory," He'd began. "I like, Amy, I do, but I always knew she was a bit too much like your mother."

Rory had balled his fists up tightly as Brian rambled on. Their relationship had always been a bit strained. They rubbed one another the wrong way, both too obstinate and opposite. He suspected they always might.

"We're the kind of men who fall in love with women like that. And they're the kind of women who leave us."

When Rory did speak it was through gritted teeth.

"So may I stay here, Dad, or not?"

"Course you can stay. Your room is where you left it. It'll be nice having you back living here."

It's just temporary." He said quickly, picking up his bag and heading for the stairs. He fell onto his childhood bed with an exhausted flop and immediately took out his phone to text her.

Hey.

No response.

Amy? We should talk.

Still no response until an hour later.

Nothing to talk about.

I gave you space. I gave us both space and time. I've been at a hotel for a week but now I'm at my Dad's place.

Fine. I'll have anything you want sent there.

Amy?

What...?

What did I do?

No response for a full fifteen minutes.

Don't text me anymore.

He felt like he'd been punched in the chest. She was his wife. His wife. And she was sliding through his fingers.

Like a child he burst into angry tears. All the life and death situations with the Doctor, all the loss and pain and hurt and fear, 2000 years of being without her and nothing had ever hurt like this. Nothing had ever so stricken him with fear. Nothing had ever made him want to give up quite like this.

He was glad he knew his job by wrote. He was still as present as he could be at work but his heart wasn't in it. She was all he could think about, she consumed his thoughts. During work hours, after hours, when he couldn't sleep, when he went to a pub to get a drink, when he punched one of his mates in the jaw because he'd called her a bitch. When he sat in the waiting room of a hospital he didn't work at to get his hand x-rayed because it was likely broken. He sent flowers, he proposed meetings, he begged, he pleaded, he wept. And then...there was nothing left to do. She was immovable and only then did he start to grow angry.

He stopped texting, in fact he cut off all contact. When she started to dally with the proceedings he pushed forward. Then there was the moment when he saw her at the market. For half a second he froze and then he walked forward and walked right past her without so much as a glance or a word.

It hurt at first but as he moved on, further away from her, it started to ease.

From there he tried to really believe that it was over and he began to formulate a theory. An ugly one.

When he was being compassionate he could just nudge himself into believing that she had tried, tried to love him as much as he loved her.. Other times he measured out their love in drams, weighing it on a scale in his mind and it always came out balanced in his favor.

He started to string together, the hesitations, the little comments, the pulling away and he, endlessly chasing after her. And everything he would eventually say to her in the Dalek Asylum would crystallize.

He had always loved her more. Always. They were inherently unbalanced and uneven and those scales could never, ever be set right. He was finally ready to stop trying.

Their first meeting with their lawyers he'd been sitting in his car beforehand trying to mentally prepare himself when she knocked on the passengers side window.

"What?" he said shortly as he'd rolled it down. His heart was trying to convince him this was the cinematic moment when she say she wanted to call everything off.

"Your taillight is out." She'd said simply.

"Oh...thanks." He was about to roll the window back up when she got inside the car and sat down. She didn't say anything for a bit and neither did he.

She looked beautiful and one glance at her legs was all it took. She must have sensed it because the next moment she was in his lap and moment after that they were in the backseat. She whispered, "Fuck me." in his ear and he frowned. She rarely said that, if ever and when it did happen they were usually mid-coitus and having a marvelous time.

But he gave her what she wanted, what they both wanted. A bracing, rambunctious fuck that rattled the car noticeably. It wasn't gentle and it sweet and when it was over he tucked himself back in his trousers, she pulled down her skirt and hurried out of the nearest door.

As he'd suspected it changed nothing.

When he'd arrived at her photoshoot that morning...this morning he'd hung back a bit and watched her. She seemed fine, hard at work, doing anything and everything she could not to use her brain. He wanted to get this done, to get it all over and done with finally. He'd already signed, just her signature, return the papers to his lawyer and the next chapter of his life could begin. He'd already drafted a letter of resignation at the hospital. He'd been looking at flats far enough away to put a substantial distance between he and Leadworth, he and London, he and Amy.

She'd signed without protest, just as cold and snide as he'd come to expect and he returned it in kind. He'd felt especially proud of the "pouting for the camera line", that is until he got out of her sight. His intention had been to just jump off the bus when it passed the nearest and bar and go drown his sorrows as opposed to himself.

Then of course he'd been kidnapped into space.

Somewhere between running for his life he noticed he'd lost the papers. He'd cursed himself at the time thinking he'd have to go through all of this again. It never occurred to her that she had taken them at least not until right now.

Going to the kitchen he retrieved a bottle of wine, two glasses, a silver charger and two matches.

With a smile on his face he settled down on the couch in their lounge and waited for her.

The truth was, no matter how much he may have groused now and again, he loved waiting for her.

Waiting for her meant she was coming. It was when he had stopped waiting that had nearly killed his spirit.

He could wait forever.

* * *

She had no intention of making him wait too long. Amy put her hair up in a ponytail, changed into sweats and a tshirt and looked at her completely makeup free face in the mirror.

Something about approaching him like this felt right. She wanted to do this bare and new, the way they had been in the beginning, the real beginning when they'd only been children.

She hoped they'd kiss again and soon. She'd missed that intimacy, missed having a hand to hold and a body to lean against.

Their last kiss and the Asylum threatened to explode around them had been as magical as their first. It nearly wiped away the memory of what had happened in the car.

She'd come up with any excuse to approach him that day and finally had pounced on the opportunity when she'd seen his brake light was out. She wanted to call it all off as she did whenever they met up like this. When he'd walked past her at the store that day it had been like a knife to the heart and she imagined that's how he'd been feeling these long months. At least in the car he couldn't escape her. When she'd seen him give a furtive glance towards her legs she'd made her move. Of course move sounded too calculated, she had no plan, she just missed him. And before she knew it he had her on her back, legs spread in the rear seat.

Fuck me, she'd said and didn't mean at all. But she worried if she made it too intimate he'd freeze and bolt. So he had fucked her, resoundingly and in a way he hadn't ever before. He kissed her hard and it felt cold. Her body responded, pent up, tight and unsatisfied for what seemed like forever, her arms embraced him and pulled him close, empty and lonely without him in them. But her heart, it only ached, because she knew then that even with him inside her he was still a million miles away. This was all just a lie. Still she came and he came and her body thanked her. And then it was over her husband pulled away. Both of them were unable to make eye contact and once she adjusted her knickers and smoothed her skirt she decided to leg it.

The meeting with their lawyers wasn't anymore awkward than usual.

She was surprised when he immediately agreed to alimony. His lawyer gave him a horrified look and wanted a sidebar but Rory waved him away.

"I have no problem paying her alimony. I also have no issue with letting her have the house. it's her home. I won't kick her out of it and there's no reason for us to sell it."

"We're pleased to hear you're so agreeable, Mr. Williams." Her lawyer had said. But she wasn't pleased. She didn't want a fight but she didn't want him to just give up as well. Why didn't he want the house, where was he going to stay?

"I just want this to be over as quickly and quietly as possible. The sooner the better because then I can leave."

She swallowed hard at that and briefly wondered if she might vomit all over the nice, shiny, heavy table before them.

He was leaving. Well of course he was. What reason did he have to stay?

She kept her mouth shut. She wanted to say too much but she didn't say a word. This was the chance she'd wanted him to have. Maybe their relations would smooth over time. Maybe once he found a girl he deserved who deserved him...maybe once he popped the question...maybe once they'd settled into a stilted friendship she'd get an invitation to his wedding and she could see him finally on the way to the happiness she could never truly give him. That would be a nice day, wouldn't it?

In the here and now she shook her head, forcing those memories away. Divorce papers in hand she left the bathroom and headed down the stairs. She found him waiting there for her, candles lit, wine poured and Rory with a smile on his face. As she approached, like a gentleman, he rose.

"You look lovely."

She blushed and leaned in for a kiss which he eagerly reciprocated.

"Thank you, Rory. What's all this?"

"This is for us." He said urging her to sit down. "And for those." He said gesturing to the papers in her hand.

"You knew I took them?" She said with surprise.

"After a while, yeah. Amy, I think maybe it's time for some new vows. If you like we can do the church thing again, we can have a grand party with our friends and we can recommit in front of them all."

It sounded like a lovely idea but she preferred this. Something quieter, more intimate, just between the two of them.

"I think I want to do it right here and now."

He smiled, clearly that was his idea too.

"Good! Great!."

"May I go first?" She asked and he nodded. "Rory, I promise..."

Of course her voice started to break before she was even through the first sentence.

"I shut you out. I made decisions for the both of us without ever giving you a chance. I promise I won't ever do that again. I won't ever assume what you're prepared to stick with me through. I won't ever put you out of our house, my life or my heart again. I vow I will never let you go."

Smiling and a bit teary himself he pulled her against his body, cradling her small frame against his larger one.

"I vow that I will listen to you and that I'll hear the things you're not saying. I promise you that we, the two of us are enough of a family and that I don't need anything more than you...ever. I promise I will never push you further than you're willing or able to go. I vow that I will love you here and now and always and that nothing can ever change that. And I vow that I will never, ever leave you again."

She sobbed against him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

He held her for a good, long while until her cries quieted.

"Amy?" He said softly in her ear.

"Yes?"

"Let's set these to burn."

She nodded eagerly and taking the papers set them on the silver charger. She'd originally thought it was just a plate but now, upon further inspection she realized it had been one of their wedding presents.

She watched as Rory struck a match and placing her hand on his they both lit the corner of the divorce papers. It quickly darkened and curled up as the flames advanced, swallowing their signatures, swallowing all the legalese and the dissolution of what was so precious and perfect and worth fighting for. She watched as the last few months burned away.

"I'll call my lawyer tomorrow and tell him it's off, yeah?" She asked.

"Me too. And I'll get my stuff from my Dad's house and move back in?" He asked her tentatively and she responded with an enthusiastic nod before launching into his arms for a kiss.

"I love you." She said against his lips. "I always have."

"I know. I was an arse for doubting it. I never, ever should have said what I said. I know how much...I've always known... "

"Hush now. You forgive me and I forgive you."

From there things progressed just exactly as she wanted them to. Kissing on the couch became increasingly more lusty until he picked her up and carried her to bed. And this time it wasn't fucking. It was sweet and gentle and kind and slow. It was like a wedding night, a first time as their new vows to each other were consummated.

Exhausted, happy, sated and safe they drifted off to sleep in one anothers arms...only to be awakened by the sound of the TARDIS materializing in their lounge several hours later.

Amy yawned and stretched, trying to see if she'd actually heard what she thought she heard.

"Rory, did you-"

A knock on their bedroom door shook them out of the majority of their drowsiness.

"May I come in?" The Doctor asked. "See, I'm abiding by the knocking rule. Don't want a repeat of last time when I found you in the middle of...all naked and limbs and sounds and fast breathing and may I just say that positioning didn't seem very safe. Amy, you could have tumbled off and hit your-"

"Come in!" They both shouted at once horrified that he might continue his observation and critique.

He opened the door and stepped in with a tentative smile. Amy watched him take a survey of the room quickly checking to make sure his Ponds were still in the positive, happy state he'd left them.

"All mended then?" He asked.

"All mended." She answered and she watched the relief spread over his features. It hadn't occurred to her fully how this might have affected him too. After all, they were his family in the truest sense of the word. And this old man with the face of a young man probably couldn't bear to lose another family.

She thought briefly of the calls she'd made to him. The messages she'd left on his answerphone, some frantic, some painfully reserved, all of them hoping he'd come back. He hadn't noticed the cracks in May, the angry, short bickering episodes when he'd popped up in June. He hadn't been there for the implosion July and the fallout in August. He'd only seen the aftermath which left him just as confused as they had both felt. Perhaps it was time they all mended things. All three of them.

"Wonderful news! Well, I thought the two of you might like a second honeymoon of sorts. My treat and your choice though I do have a few places I can recommend. Perpetua 12, favorite spot of lovers, it's in a hidden constellation and this time of year it's bathed in the brightest starlight in all the universe.

"How can a constellation be hidden?" Rory asked with a smile.

"Come with me and find out. Unless...I mean, I don't want to get in the way of..." He gestured at them not certain how to finish his sentence.

Amy laughed at how flustered he was and shared a look with her husband. It was all there, everything she expected to see. Everything she had missed seeing. After months and months of being on opposite sides and not being on the same book much less the same page, things had been righted again. She saw the same adventurous, happy gleam in his eye that had always been there. The one that so clearly said, "Yes, let's run!"

"Never in the way." She answered at the same time Rory replied. "Give us ten minutes, mate."

Their friend nodded and headed out the door.

"Doctor!" she called after him and he poked his head back in.

"Thank you." Both she and Rory said in unison.

The Doctor ducked his head before giving them another shy smile and a nod.

"Come along, Ponds!' He called behind him as he left the room and dashed down the stairs. "We've all wasted enough time!'

They both laughed and hurriedly started to dress. Amy was eager to get going, eager to put their lives back on the track and trajectory they belonged.

"We can call the lawyers from the TARDIS." Rory said grabbing their mobiles from the nightstand.

"And we'll pick up your things from your Dad's when we get back." She said reaching for a jumper or three. They always wound up somewhere cold and never had one when they needed it.

"Let's just make a Facebook post to let everybody know it's all off. No fuss, no muss, no long form questions and answers." Rory said with a shrug.

"Sounds good to me."

They took one last glance around their bedroom. She didn't know what they'd have seen by the time they returned. She never knew. She didn't know what they'd do or where they'd wind up. She only knew they'd be together, as they should be.

"Come on, husband." She said reaching for her husbands hand which he immediately offered her. With a tug she pulled him towards the door, the stairs, the TARDIS and the adventure that lay ahead of them. "He's right, we've wasted enough time."


End file.
